


Dragon Fuckers Unanimus

by peacefultyranny



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Screaming, i wish i could say this is crack but honestly revas would do this, it is now canon, so much screaming, sorry everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5520668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefultyranny/pseuds/peacefultyranny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh sure, the world’s ending, demons are pouring out of the sky in the thousands, the entirety of Orlais has decided to shit its pants over a squabble for the throne, but who cares? There’s dragons to hunt.</p>
<p>AKA Revas Levallan headbutts The Iron Bull and dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon Fuckers Unanimus

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses for this trainwreck honestly. I'm sleep deprived and probably dying. Honour my memory by screaming vaguely into the night for me.  
> Not beta'd because I like to live on the edge. Sorry in advance.

“Holy fucking _shit_.”

The door to the Herald's Rest slams open dramatically, the entire thing rattling as it rebounds off the wall from the force of the impact. Glass windows tremble. A few mugs clatter noisily to tabletops. The entire tavern falls completely silent, completely surprised at the sudden and loud entrance.

Revas Lavellan, Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, and tiny terror on two legs stands in the doorway for a few seconds with their arm still outstretched and in a hunched pose, eyes and short white hair wild. They don't even bother to look around and instead keep their gaze locked on the other side of the tavern. Finally after a few tense seconds they straighten out, clench their fists, and set their jaw, and then march military-precise over to the table where The Iron Bull usually sits.

“Bull.”

Two small but surprisingly strong hands slam down onto the table, causing a wayward spoon to go flying across the room. Somewhere several hundred miles away a poor mother in a tiny village weeps over silverware.

“Boss.”

The two regard each other for a quiet moment, eyes locked; the Inquisitor's posture aggressive and forward as they bear down on the beast of a qunari, while Bull's is relaxed but still seemingly prepared, if that was ever possible. The entire tavern seems to hold its breath, prepared for the worse.

“I'm so fucking pumped to go kick the shit out of that dragon,” Revas declares with a low, dangerous voice.

The tavern releases its collective breath in favour of rolling its eyes.

The Iron Bull slams his fist on the table and shouts “Hell yeah!” as the Inquisitor snags the drink that somehow survived the wrath of tiny mage hands slamming the table and throws it back. The empty stein is then slammed onto the table and they wipe their mouth with the back of their sleeve looking determined.

Turning on their heel, they raise their hands to cup their mouth to project their voice better. “OI! SERA!” they yell, making some of the closer patrons wince and try to hide their misery into their own drinks.

There's a series of loud thumps followed by a crash that sounds distinctly like something shattering and someone swears loudly before Sera's head pops out over the railing. “Wot?”

“We're gonna go fuck a dragon!”

The tavern goes quiet again, though this time it's entirely out of disbelief and lasts much shorter than the initial silence. It's also immediately followed by everyone in the establishment who the Inquisitor hasn't yelled at today groaning. Someone starts up a prayer to the Maker and several others join in.

Sera, meanwhile, whoops loudly and vaults over the banister to land on the main floor of the tavern in an amazing display of acrobatics. Their crew assembled, Revas throws their hands up with a vague yell and then leads them out like a parade of excited yelling dogs as they all turn to each other in turn just to holler. Once out of the confines of buildings and social stigmas and in the wide open and acoustically perfect courtyard, the trio gather together in a little circle to continue their screaming.

“Auuuugh!!” says Bull, his pectoral muscles rippling magnificently as he stands up straight, feet shoulder width apart and fists palm-up and braced at his hips.

“Raaaauuugh!!” says Sera, hunched over forwards and flexing her incredible archery-toned biceps while veins threaten to burst in her neck.

“Huuaaaaaaagh!!!” says Revas, head thrown back and hands shaped into talons as they thrash their tense torso stiffly side-to-side.

Solas, who had settled himself against the wall of the main gate into Skyhold to wait for the Inquisitor to gather the rest of their party after they had rushed into his rotunda with a breathless bark of “You. Dragon. Now.” simply looks at the small noisy gathering and winces internally. That wince becomes external when Revas and Bull headbutt each other, seeming to forget for a critical second that the elf is decidedly not structurally prepared to headbutt anyone, let alone a qunari, and sends the person who is supposedly supposed to be capable of saving the world flying.

They land in a heap and Bull and Sera laugh good-naturally for a moment before they realize that Revas isn't moving, and then the panic sets in. Solas smacks a hand over his face and drags it downwards, sighing loudly as he steps over to help make sure that the Inquisitor hasn't just been killed by a pep rally. Really. Why did this elf have to be the one to get the Anchor? Why couldn't it have been something like a cat instead?

And he didn't even have gods he could pray to.

He has so many regrets.

 


End file.
